In the Kingdom of the Moon
by smells like citrus
Summary: As their friendship deepens, Remus must find a way to save Hermione not only from an ancient magic that consumes her... but also from herself. An RLHG friendship and comfort fic. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I Disclaim!

A/N: The plot bunnies have been bugging me for a while to write this one down. A long while, actually. It's been incubating, till it acquired a life of its own and took control of it. ^_^;

~*~

Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Summer Before 6th Year

If asked, Hermione couldn't quite remember when Grimmauld Place stopped feeling like a headquarters and began feeling like home. The first time she set foot in the house, she was amazed at the contrast the silent, forbidding, ancient stonewalls made with the bustle and noise and urgency of its occupants. For all the secrecy of the place, so many people seemed to go in and out of the front door, the back door, the kitchen door, the chimney, the French windows on the east wing, and once she saw, when sleep eluded her that night, through an old rickety closet in a forgotten corner on the third floor.

She would never admit it, but it intimidated her at first, seeing all these important people gathering, discussing recent Death Eater activities, discussing preemptory measures, discussing reconnaissance, contingency plans, covert operations—war efforts. She seemed to forget all of the sudden that she encountered Voldemort in his various guises on multiple occasions, perhaps more times than any of these people ever would in their lifetime.

Slowly though, largely due to Mrs. Weasley's campaign to humanize the house the previous summer, Hermione began to feel like herself again in Grimmauld Place. She started looking forward to waking up in the morning and having breakfast Molly made in the kitchen, or taking solitary afternoon walks on the grounds when Ron and Harry were too lazy to join her. Naturally, she found herself gravitating toward the house's impressive library during her free time, helpless to resist the prospect of perusing volumes of musty books, tomes, scrolls, maps, journals and other publications that perhaps hadn't been touched for decades. Sometimes, she simply sat on her favorite spot in the library, on the floor behind one particular couch, legs stretched in front of her and her back leaning against the back of the sofa. She realized that her best ideas came to her in this slightly hidden niche, especially when she simply stared into space and let the silence wrap around her.

Like what she was doing at the moment, at about thirty minutes past two in the morning. She was clutching a book in her hands, so hard her knuckles had started going white. She found the volume a month ago in Hogwarts, thick, faded, dusty and half-eaten by termites. It didn't look much at first, but now, a month later, it had her heart beating so fast, her mind whirring with thoughts she could barely hang on to. She stared at the book disbelievingly, wondering how such an unassuming-looking thing could affect her so. But she was spared from further attempts at logical thought when the door in the library opened and the sound of muffled footsteps reached her ears. She climbed onto her knees and turned around to look over the couch to see who came in. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the sight of the familiar features of a friend. Yes, what she needed most at the moment was a distraction.

"Remus!" Her voice rang over the silence of the library. Startled, the man in question whipped his head to the source of the sound. He smiled warmly at the face he saw peeking from behind the sofa.

"Hermione, is that you? What are you doing up still?" Remus asked as he walked over to where she was. She made as though to fully stand up, but he gestured to remain as she was. "Please, you looked comfortable back there."

To her surprise, he went around the couch to drop to the floor beside her, legs crossed. He smiled at the books scattered around her, eyes twinkling as he observed, "I see you've nested."

She returned his smile sheepishly. She hurriedly tried to straighten up a bit the mess she made. "I blame it on entropy. Things simply tend toward chaos these days."

She heard him heave a heavy sigh. "Chaos, indeed," he agreed in a quiet tone. He was silent for a while. Hermione took the opportunity to study him, noting the lines on his face, his hoarse voice, the dark circles under his eyes, the painfully thin shoulders beneath the clean but rumpled shirt he was wearing. He looked older, sapped of his strength and youth and stretched thin. She morbidly wondered when he would finally snap.

He was staring hard at the floor with a slight frown on his face. Finally, he broke the hush. "Hermione, in your third year, you kept a secret for me, a secret that on so many levels must have been very hard for you to keep." He shifted his gaze to Hermione's eyes. "Do you think you could keep another one?" Her breath caught at what she saw in his eyes, a wildness that was gone so fast she wondered if it was even there in the first place.

"Yes, of course," she replied with all the earnestness she could muster. Whatever his secret was, it was a burden that for the moment had begun to be too much to bear alone. "What is it?"

"The werewolves. They refused to work with us. They said they have no desire to help a community that has done nothing for them for so long," Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes with the base of his palm. "And if that's not bad enough, I have a feeling they're all too willing to join forces with the Dark Lord. He promised them things, Hermione, things that the Ministry never gave them—never gave us."

She couldn't help but let out a gasp. What he just revealed to her was highly classified Order intelligence. She was dumbfounded at the enormity of the secret, not to mention the secret itself. The loss of the werewolves' support was indeed a blow to the Order. At this point in their campaign, they needed all the resources they could tap into, and it seemed that these days, those they couldn't reach out to not only refused to help them, but also decided to fight _against_ them. They already lost the Dementors to the Dark, and everybody knew how the Centaurs were reluctant to involve themselves in human affairs.

Things were looking very bleak. Chaos, indeed, she thought to herself. Mustering all the cheer she could, she managed a smile for the weary man at her side. "I'm so sorry, Remus, that _is_ terrible news. But listen, if there's one thing I know about groups, it's that there will always be a minority. There will always be that group of people who thinks otherwise, who sticks to their position, and soon will raise doubts in the majority." More confidently, she forged on. "We only need to find those people, those werewolves, Remus. And _that_ is simply a matter of research," she finished.

Remus stared at her for a moment, before throwing back his head to laugh. She blinked at his reaction, wondering if this was Remus finally snapping. Not quite how she pictured it a few minutes ago. After a few beats, she found herself giggling along with him. "That _did _sound a bit too optimistic, didn't it?" She scratched her head sheepishly.

He was still laughing lightly when he shook his head. "No, no. You're the voice of clarity itself. Thank you, I needed that. I'm afraid I was, well, I was _wallowing_ a while ago, imagine that. Where _do_ you come up with these things, Miss Granger?"

She grinned, "I was studying muggle social psychology two summers ago. I found it in one of my dad's old college textbooks." In a more serious tone, she added, "I'd be more than happy to help you, Remus. I mean, it's just research. I do that all the time for fun."

He held her gaze for a second, before nodding. "Thank you, Hermione. Really, thank you. But I rather you won't let what I just told you affect your daily activities too much."

"No, not at all!" At Remus doubtful look, she hurriedly added, "Okay, so I get a little carried away sometimes. But that's just what I _do_, you know. If it weren't this, it would be something else. Might as well obsess over something useful, right?"

He still looked a little unconvinced. "If you say so. But I still prefer that you continue reading whatever it was you were reading a while ago. What _were_ you reading?"

Hermione froze. Holy mother of God, she almost forgot about it. She looked down to see the book on her lap. Was it there the entire time? She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. "Oh, this? Ha, just something I picked up in, uh, Hogsmeade."

"May I?" He held out his hand for the book. Hermione stared at it at first, then turned pleading eyes to his face. At her panicked look, Remus frowned. "Hermione, if that's a forbidden book, then—"

"It isn't! It's not Dark, I swear!" She burst out saying, "It's just… well it's just that—fine, here." Reluctantly, she gave the book to Remus. He carefully examined the book, squinting as he read the faded title on its spine.

"'A … A Gentle Warrior'…by Henrietta Hetherington?" She could only cringe at his next words. "Hermione, could this—is it—could this _possibly_ be a—a _regency romance_?"

He stared dumbfounded at a very red-faced Hermione. She almost whimpered, but instead, she sat up straighter, jutting her chin out in an attempt to look less embarrassed. "Y-yeah, that's exactly what it is. A regency romance."

For the second time that night, or morning actually, Remus threw his head back, laughing till the whole library rang with the sound. This time, she gladly noted his laughter was more genuine, without the dark desperation that tinged his earlier one. The fact remained though that he was still laughing _at her_. "Are you quite finished enjoying yourself at my expense? So I read regency romances!"

His laughter had subsided to giggles. "It's just that it's a bit incomprehensible, you must admit. I listen to you recite college-level texts one minute, and the next, I find you reading something written by someone named _Henrietta Hetherington_."

"Well, that's _not_ her real name, you know. It's Carol Delaney. So there." She nodded for emphasis.

"And of course, that makes this _so_ much better."

They exchanged banter for a little while more, but at Remus' third yawn, she insisted that he went to bed. At his refusal, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up from the floor despite his protests, before finally pushing him out of the library and wishing him a tight sleep. She closed the door and leaned back against it. She was getting sleepy herself, but with all the things weighing on her mind, she decided to forget about sleep for the time being.

She walked back to the back of the sofa and picked up the book in question. In her hands, the silly title rippled; when it settled, a different title was in place. _Majus, _it read. It was an Arabic word that referred to the old religions of Iran, of Zoroastrianism, the oldest known religion in the world. Some accounts said it referred to a particular caste of people, the Magi, who practiced shamanism, sorcery and divination during the Sassanid Era in the unified Persia. Whoever they were, Hermione was certain of one thing—they practiced old magic. It was all there in the book—how life debts were incurred and invoked, how magic was done without wands, how the blood flowing in your family's veins can offer protection, and most of all, how to make it so that a life sacrifice can protect the ones you hold dear. Hermione felt her heart beat the hardest at the last one as her thoughts flew to Harry and Ron.

She felt guilty for lying to Remus when he trusted her enough to share with her something very confidential. The book wasn't Dark, but neither was it of the Light. It was simply _Old_. Nevertheless, she had a feeling not many would approve of her new reading material. Let the Order keep all the secrets they want, let them reach out to werewolves and centaurs and other creatures of this world and the next, let them plan all covert ops, counter measures and counterattacks. She had a secret of her own—this book in her hands, Old Magic—and this was _her_ war effort.

~*~

A/N: Uwaah… look at that, I wrote something! I could do my victory dance right now. Whew. Anyways, as I know you can tell, I'm very new at writing fiction. That's why, reviews are chocolates, but constructive criticisms is LOVE. Seriously, I really want to know the areas that need improvement, tips, advice for writing fiction, etc. Also, English is a second language, so I also hope to work on my English-writing skills with this exercise.

And one more thing, I will be the first to admit that this chapter is poorly researched, HPverse-wise and history-wise. Sorry bout that, but the people who borrowed my HP books still haven't returned them yet. What I said about the Magi and Zoroastrianism could probably use a little more research. And I took artistic license when I wrote that they practiced wandless magic and life sacrifice and such. Tehe….

Luff,

smellslikecitrus


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I disclaim!

A/N: Whoa, plot bunnies multiplied. Here's chapter 2! Enjoy!

~*~

"Circe, Mopsus and _Merlin_. What a waste of an afternoon," Remus muttered to himself as he passed through the gates of Grimmauld Place. He just came from a meeting with the scholars at the College, hoping to glean some information on werewolves that could help salvage the failed alliance. Unfortunately, they weren't able to give him something he didn't already know and hadn't already used. Frustration gnawed at him. Quite unconsciously, his teeth gnashed, his nails dug into his palms and a sound that might have been a growl resonated from the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, willing himself to unclench his jaw and relax. Full moon was in two days, and it was getting harder and harder to tame the monster, the evil inside of him.

Feeling a little bit more in control, he slowly opened his eyes. He had to smile at the sight that greeted him. There, to his far left, was the familiar explosion of brown hair and Gryffindor colors—Hermione Granger. He wondered why he only saw her now—was he that distracted? But now that he had, she was impossible to miss. She was riding a rusty bicycle that seemed to be a little too big for her, going round and round the old crabapple tree that stood quietly in the middle of the western grounds.

Before he knew it, his feet carried him to her. "Hermione!" He called to the girl, who looked his way and swerved violently at the motion, but fortunately was able to right herself in time. She stuck a foot out and planted it firmly on the ground, then smiled and happily waved to Remus.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said the moment he reached her. He took in her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, her slightly sunburned nose, her wild hair made wilder by her recent activity, and the grin that lit up her entire face. He felt a pang in chest, which, when he was alone with his thoughts much later, he thought might have been envy for her youth and health and vigor.

"I'm okay, it's not your fault. It's the bike. It's really old," she assured him in a breathless voice. She carefully dismounted and leaned the bike against the tree. "I found it in the shed this morning. I had to grease the chain and gears here, with, err, cooking oil from the kitchen," she added. When Remus didn't say anything, she looked up to see him staring thoughtfully at the bicycle.

He chuckled, then shook his head, as if waking himself up from a memory. "I think that used to belong to Sirius," he said quietly. He went over to the bike and squatted in front of it, examining the underside of the seat. "Yes, here it is," he pointed to a tiny paw print emblazoned on the leather. She knelt down beside him and peered at the mark. "I remember he was learning to ride it in secret in the summer before our 6th year, so he could move on to motorcycles by the time we graduated."

Hermione gasped and stood up quickly. "Merlin, I feel so stupid. I should've known. I mean, who else in their family would own a Muggle contraption?" She looked at the bike as she brushed the dirt from her jeans. "Do—do you think he would've minded terribly that rode I it this afternoon?"

Remus rose to his feet and swallowed hard before answering in a voice hoarse with emotion, "No, I think—I do believe it would have made him happy, that this muggle contraption could finally see the light of day in Grimmauld Place."

Grief washed over him for a moment, so powerful he could only stand helplessly and silently at its onslaught. It seemed very cruel, he thought, that he finally had his friend back after being alone for so long, only to lose him again in a flash of green light. Many nights after the incident, he wondered if his death would've been more tolerable if Sirius hadn't come back to him first, if he merely perished in Azkaban a condemned and soulless man.

But no, this wasn't the time or the place for him to fall apart. Not in front of Hermione, who he already burdened with his gloom a week ago in the library. Choking back his anguish, he asked a patiently silent Hermione where Harry and Ron were.

"Oh, those two. They were playing chess in the study when I left them just after lunch. I have no idea why Harry bothers, Ron always wins," she said with a fond smile that hadn't escaped his notice. "Hey, speaking of lunch, I heard from Mrs. Weasley you went to the College today? Was it—was it about—you know?"

He made a strangled noise, something between a cough and a choke. He was at a loss as to how to answer her. Should he involve her more in his mess than she already was, or should he spare her? He sighed. It wouldn't be very fair of him to unload on her, albeit in a moment of weakness, then to expect her not to be curious and concerned.

Defeated, he lowered himself to the ground and gestured to Hermione to do the same. "I was able to speak with two yellow-robe Adepts and one black-robe Master in Lycanthropy. Long story short, it will be impossible to persuade the four known packs in Europe to join our cause, for not only do they despise wizards and their governments, they're also, well, naturally evil. And evil will always be attracted to evil."

She shook her head violently. "That can't be right. Look at you, you're not evil at all!"

He didn't know whether to be flattered or amused at the girl's unwavering faith in him. "Well, those werewolves were raised in a pack, with their own rules and own ideologies. I was raised by me _mum_. " He grinned wryly, and she couldn't help but laugh. Remus' mother, she thought, would've been an interesting woman.

Then she stopped laughing abruptly. "Hang on a sec—did you say four known packs in Europe?" At his nod, she frowned. "_Four?_ Are you sure?"

"Yes, each one of them said there were four. The Varcolac, the Wargulf, the Loup-garou, and—"

"And the Werwolf, yeah, I've been reading about them the past week. Surprisingly, there were a lot of books and scrolls on Lycanthropy in the library. Or maybe unsurprisingly." She shook his head, frown still in place. "The books I have from Hogwarts pretty much say the same thing. But …." She was silent for a while, lost in thought and chewing on her lip.

He was about to call her attention when she suddenly straightened up and looked at him. "Here's the thing, Remus. I don't know which I should trust more, the materials from a school library and the words of the scholars of the College, or the things I find in a private family library like the Blacks'. Do you see what I mean?" She bit her lip and pinned him with anxious eyes.

Lost, Remus shook his head apologetically. "No, not exactly…I'm sorry."

"It's just that, publications you usually find in public and school libraries are subject to the censure of the government, and maybe, in our case, even the propaganda of the ruling werewolf pack. That'd be the Werwolf. A private collection, on the other hand, would be virtually untouched by such things…well, when you look at it that way, it could be a more reliable source of information." She groaned and covered her face with a hand. "Ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I could go to Malfoy's place and check out their library."

"And the scholars? They're experts in their fields. Don't you think we could trust their words?" He reminded her gently.

She nodded, but still looked a little disturbed. "We could…but the College is a _state_ college, isn't it? It's ministry-owned. Who knows what the ministry has done to their libraries, or to the scholars themselves. And I don't have a problem seeing the ministry accommodating the whims of the Werwolf."

Gripping her shoulders, Remus turned Hermione to face him. "Hermione, you really must tell me this before you go any further. What Werwolf propaganda? What have you found?"

"Two really old scrolls and the journal of a person named Anneius, circa 120 A.D. All well preserved. One of the scrolls only named the Werwolf and the Wargulf of the four known packs, and the other one mentioned the Loup-garou. Anneius wrote a little about the Varcolac and the Werwolf. But what all three have in common is another pack—the _Wulver_.

"But get this. One of the scrolls and the journal mentioned a feud between the Werwolf and the Wulvers. Something about fishing territories, and how the Wulvers were turning their back on their kind because they _refused_ to hunt humans. In fact, they even _fed_ poor Muggle families some of the fish they caught." Hermione was breathless when she finished, suddenly feeling thirsty as though she talked for hours.

Remus simply stared at her for the longest time, trying to absorb all the information. The existence of a fifth pack, the idea of _goodness_ in werewolves... his mind reeled with hope, with possibilities. But he must not get a head of himself. She was right, all they had at they moment were theories, and they could not be certain about anything until they found out more.

He was called back to the present when Hermione stood up and stretched. "Well, that's about all I found out as of yesterday evening. I'll try again tomorrow." She held her hand out to him. He took it and let her drag him to his feet, just as she had that night in the library.

"Hermione, you've helped me enough as it is. If I did not know it to be futile, I would ask you to forget about the entire thing." He dusted his worn slacks, dismayed at the sight of grass stains.

She shook her head and grinned unabashedly. "If it makes you feel better, don't think of it as me helping you. Let's just say I'm trying to learn more about a friend's people. And hey, I truly, honestly am."

He ducked his head to hide an embarrassed smile. Her heartfelt words warmed his heart, something he hadn't felt since the end of Harry's fifth year. "Come on, we should head back to the house."

Hermione walked over to the bike and held it upright. "Let's ride together. Give me a lift?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh! Umm, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know how to ride a bicycle," he muttered sheepishly.

Dumbfounded, Hermione gaped at him. "You—you don't know how to ride a bike? _How do you live?_ You know, as a friend, I'm now also obligated to teach you. Starting right this minute."

"Hermione, I don't think you should—" He was cut off when she thrust the Muggle contraption in his hands.

"No excuses, Remus, this is dire. Here, swing your leg over to—Ow!"

"Sorry, I'm just not very good at this sort—" He lost his words when small warm hands gripped his waist from behind to steady him.

"That's okay, you got me for a teacher. Okay, now put you feet on the pedals and I'm going to give you a push, alright?"

"Hermione, I'm really not sure this is a good---"

"Ready? On three. One…two…three!"

"Hermione!"

Remus later realized just how naïve he had been when he asked Hermione to stop pursuing the werewolves issue. He knew she was a determined girl, but he only found out now exactly how _relentless_ she was, that once she set her mind to do a task, she never stopped until she saw it done. By sunset, he was already an accomplished bicycle rider.

~*~

When Hermione entered the library, she couldn't believe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. "Ron, Harry… are you… by any chance… doing your summer homework?"

"As a matter of fact, we are. No need to look like you just saw Snape give points to a Hufflepuff, 'Mione," Ron barely looked up from the essay he was writing on the 14 magical uses of wild ginseng.

She peered over their shoulders to look at what they've written so far. "Harry, you got number four wrong…."

Harry looked up to her, then back at his scroll, then groaned. "Oh, bugger. The gigatic bat said he didn't want erasures." He crumpled the paper and started writing the whole thing over again.

Hermione shook her head and started to head to her usual spot behind the couch the two were sitting on, but midway, she paused. "Hey… you guys know I love you, right?"

Scratching quills screeched to a halt as both young men groaned in unison. Hermione blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Hermione! For the love of God, you don't _say_ things like that… not to men, alright?" Ron was cringing in his seat, hands covering a face as bright as his hair.

Harry looked like he just came out of a fight with Voldemort—and lost. "You drank that lemonade, didn't you? I told you to stay away from it, it was going bad."

She wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or amused. "Well, _excuse me_. I was just saying, you know. That I lo—"

"We get it, already!"

"Merlin's beard, woman!"

She huffed and barely managed to keep herself from pouting. "Well, fine. Glad you know. There." Then she proceeded to stomp to the back of the sofa to sulk. What's wrong with expressing her feelings for them? They weren't there to see the look on Remus' face when he mentioned Sirius earlier—

A distinctly embarrassed cough stopped her train of thoughts. "Hermione. Uh… me, too. You know," somebody behind her mumbled.

"Yeah… me, too. _Sheesh_," said another one.

Smiling to herself, she hugged 'A Gentle Warrior' to her chest. "I know…." She said quietly. She knew then and there that she could sacrifice just about _anything_ for the two idiots behind her.

~*~

A/N: Aaaaaaand, owwww. It hurts. The brain cramp, the neck cramp, the finger cramp… this was one hard thing to write. Merry Christmas, everyone! Leave a review please! ^_^

Once again, all those things I wrote about werewolves are basically the less than stellar result of speed-reading wikipedia. It's man's best friend.

Luff,

Smellslikecitrus ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I disclaim!

A/N: Hehe, thanks for those who reviewed! Here's chapter 3, I hope you enjoy it. ^_^

~*~

Hermione groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, for good measure, she rubbed her tired eyes and groaned some more. Why, why, _why_ are these things never easy? she cried to whatever gods might be listening. Not to say she was expecting an answer, but when none came, she glared at the text in front of her, wondering if, if she glared at it hard and long enough, the letters would somehow shift around and for once tell her something she wanted to know. But the passage remained stubbornly unchanged, and in fact seemed to glare right back at her. At that moment, Hermione Granger was certain she was crazy.

"You drove me crazy," she told the book accusingly. She felt like it needed to know. "I could be out in the sun this very minute, enjoying the beautiful afternoon, yet here I am, cooped up in a dark, stuffy library reading _you_. You should be more grateful."

"Who should be more grateful?" asked a voice behind her.

Hermione yelped and whirled around, knocking over an uncapped inkbottle in the process. She glared up to a grinning Ron from her position on the floor behind the couch. He was kneeling on the sofa and leaning over the back of it, peering down at Hermione.

"The wild and brooding Scottish Laird McKibben, if you must know. He was just rescued by the buxom Lady Alice Pendleton, but refuses to admit it," she gritted out as she tried to clean up the inky mess with some scratch papers.

"Urgh, Merlin, you're reading that crap again? Oi, Harry!" Ron called over his shoulder to their friend who just came in. "Hermione's being unacceptably girly again. Make her stop!"

"Well, you asked," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "What're you two doing here, anyway? In the _library_?"

"Harry, I can't be certain, but is she being snippy with us?" Ron asked in an overly incredulous tone.

"Yes, Ron, I do believe she is," Harry sighed heavily, joining Ron on the sofa. "And here we were, offering to give her indispensable information...." he let his words hang.

"Too bad, really, she would have loved to hear it, seeing that it's, you know, _indispensable_," Ron replied, "We'll be going then, Hermione. I hope you have fun with your… book. Don't worry about us, we know when our company isn't wanted."

She was torn between laughing at the two's theatrics and bashing them in the head with 'A Gently Warrior'.

"Alright! You win, you drama queens," she growled as she stood up, arms crossed, "What information? And it better be worth that inkbottle, Ronald Weasley." When the two simply arched a brow at her expectantly, she gave them an extremely forced smile and barked out, "_Please_."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, Dumbledore just called an emergency Order meeting," Ron magnanimously revealed. "It's crazy out there right now."

"Yeah, people just rushing in and stuff. Some klutz even woke up that old hag's portrait, but Mrs. Weasley took care of that now," Harry further elaborated. "And, er, Tonks says hi, by the way," he added.

She was distracted by the thought of the metamorphagus stumbling on to Mrs. Black yet again. She wondered if she did it on purpose to annoy the nasty old witch? No, wait, that wasn't the point.

"An emergency Order meeting? Why? What happened?" she asked worriedly. What could have possibly alarmed Dumbledore enough to call out all the members of the Order, in broad daylight no less?

"As I doubt anyone will be forthcoming with information," Harry said in disgust, "Fred and George and Ginny are getting the extendible ears ready as we speak. They said it's new and improved."

"Yeah, and now we're just waiting for them to start so we could get on with our own, uh, data gathering," Ron delicately finished.

Hermione giggled. "Eavesdropping, Ron. It's called eavesdropping. Come on, they should be starting already—"

She was cut off when Mrs. Weasley burst into the library, looking more harried than usual. "Oh, thank Merlin you three are here!" She seemed to be juggling a million things in her arms. Hermione and Harry immediately rushed over to her to help her carry some of the stuff.

"Oh, thank you, Harry, Hermione, dear," she cried, "My goodness, it's such a terribly busy afternoon, it's pleasant to know _some_ people are ready to lend a hand," she added, looking meaningfully to Ron.

"Is there anything we can help you with, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked helpfully. She wasn't sure, but Ron might've muttered, "Speak for yourself." She discreetly elbowed him anyway.

"I'm so glad you asked, dear. As a matter of fact, there _is_ one tiny, little thing. Could you perhaps help look after Remus just for a while? Full moon was last night, you know, and I'm afraid the poor man hasn't quite recovered from it yet," Mrs. Weasley clicked her tongue concernedly.

Hermione let out a gasp. How could she have forgotten! Now that she looked, she saw a bottle of antiseptic liquid and a few rolls of bandages among the things she carried. "Is—is he hurt really bad?"

"Oh no, dear, just a slight fever and a few scratches here and there. Mostly, he just sleeps, the poor thing. I need you to wake him up for supper, though, and for the medicine for the fever. They're in the kitchen. Do you think you think you could clean his cuts for me? It's just for a while, and the Order meeting—" she stopped herself abruptly.

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley, we'd be happy to. We'll take good care of him," Hermione quickly reassured her. Mrs. Weasley looked hassled enough without Hermione pestering her with her questions.

"Well, then, I leave him to your care, Hermione, Harry. You too, Ron," she said, looking relieved, and hurried out of the library. When Hermione turned to face Ron and Harry, she immediately frowned at the expression on their faces. "Oh no, you don't!"

"Come on, Hermione, please! You heard my mum, it's just a few cuts here and there. You don't really need me for that, do you?" Ron whined.

"And if we're going to be really honest about it, you're the only one Mrs. Weasley really trusted with this," Harry pointed out. "She only asked me 'cause she didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, and we'll fill you in later!"

Between their combined wheedling and her concern for the recovering werewolf, she heaved a great sigh and finally nodded. "Fine, but it better be word for word. And you owe me big!"

She almost dropped the things she was holding when they enveloped her in bear hugs and whooped in her ear. She just smiled under their arms. Crazy boys, she thought.

~*~

Hermione crept as silently as she could across the small room to the bed in the corner, careful not to disturb the man sleeping in it. She sat on the chair that was already by the bed and quietly set the things she carried on the bedside table. She examined Remus' sleeping form, then winced at what she saw.

He looked like crap. There wasn't any other word for it, she thought. His face was very pale, which made the circles under his eyes stand out starkly. There was a shadow along his jaw, and his lank hair, wet with perspiration and a bit longer than it was the last time Hermione saw him, clung to his forehead in clumps. She was amused to see a small, sharp, pointed canine caught on his bottom lip, which was cracked and chapped and slightly bleeding.

She gasped as her eyes roamed to his chest. Someone had already removed his shirt and his blanket only came up to his waist, so Hermione could see the plethora of scars wending their way across his torso. She could see were the skin puckered, or was hollowed out, and how some scars overlapped with others, like intricate patterns on one of her mother's dyed sarongs. She didn't know if they were ugly, or beautiful, or perhaps both.

Her eyes shifted to the more recent injuries, which thankfully were really just scrapes and bruises scattered around. Deciding she already wasted enough time, she quickly set about dabbing at the cuts with the antiseptic and putting a bandage over the deeper ones. She grabbed an ointment from the table and smeared some of it on a particularly nasty-looking bruise, jumping slightly when the muscle beneath his skin twitched at the contact. She wondered how she was going to see to the wounds on his back.

She was leaning over him, about to set a magically self-cooling gel pad on his slightly burning forehead when Remus' eyes snapped open. She only had a second to note they were all _black_ before she felt a hand snake around the back of her neck and tug her close, causing her to lose her balance and fall on top of him. She yelped slightly at the impact and struggled to push herself off him, but the hand held her tightly in place. She stilled when she felt his nose graze the curve of her ear, his breath hot on her cheek. She heard a low rumbling noise just before he buried his nose in her hair and breathed in.

Hermione was only able to keep the panic at bay with the thought that this was Remus, her friend, her mentor, and lately, her partner. She reminded herself that she trusted him, but it didn't keep her from wishing that Harry and Ron were here right now. Dredging up courage, she slowly lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheeks, then his hair, murmuring quiet and comforting words until finally, after a lifetime—or was it just minutes?—his grip on her neck slackened and she was able to pull away. When she looked at his face, she saw he was asleep again as though nothing happened.

She sat heavily on the chair, shocked to numbness at what occurred. No amount of reading and researching could have prepared her for this side of Remus. How could she have been so naïve as to think the beast in him was a harmless creature, incapable of real damage? But what she just witnessed was no such thing. It was powerful and raw and untamed, only too capable of snapping her neck with a flick of a wrist.

It was _dangerous_.

So where did that leave her? Was she scared of him now? She shook her head. No, she would never be scared of him. The only difference between yesterday and this moment was that Hermione was now less ignorant about Remus. She now had an idea of what wildness lived inside him; she now had a deeper appreciation of what he had to struggle with every single day of his life.

And maybe, she'd be a better friend for it.

~*~

As Remus woke up, things came to him one at a time. His temporarily heightened sense of hearing caught the steady sound of quill against parchment. His nose could smell the scent of mushroom soup, and there was something cold on his forehead. As though suddenly reminded of its state, his body opened itself to pain. His muscles felt on fire, and his bones felt raw. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

He immediately recognized the girl who seemed to be writing something furiously on his desk. "Hermione?" He gingerly sat up and peeled off the cool object on his face. That's when he noticed that he was bare-chested. Oh.

She turned around at the sound of his voice, looked unsure for a fraction of a second, then flashed him a grin. "Oh good, I was just about to wake you, too." She went over to his and sat on the chair. "Mrs. Weasley asked me to look after you for awhile," she explained before he could ask.

He shook his head. "She worries too much. I'm fine, really." Not exactly, but it was nothing he wasn't already accustomed to.

She looked skeptical. "Sometimes, she worries just right," she replied with a little grin. "I was given instructions to see to it you finish your dinner," she informed him in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Yes, ma'am," he obediently agreed.

"And I still have to fix up your back," she pointed out cheerfully.

"Yes, ma'am," he said again, sighing in surrender.

"And you also have to drink your medicine," she added, clearly enjoying this.

"Yes, ma'am. But I'm afraid my stomach demands to have its dinner first." He reached for the tray on the bedside table, but Hermione beat him to it. Just as well, he thought. He doubted he could carry the entire thing without spilling anything, in his current state. She settled the tray carefully on his lap.

This was twice now that she had been there for him in his time of need, silently offering support and a grin that warded off the chill in his bones. "Thank you, Hermione. You really didn't have to do this, you know," he said sincerely.

She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. "Are we going to have this conversation again?"

He let out a bark of laughter, before agreeing, "I suppose it _is_ getting a bit redundant."

He finished his dinner quickly and obediently drank his medicine under the watchful eye of Hermione. When he asked her why it was so quiet, he frowned when she didn't answer immediately. "What's happened, Hermione?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know myself, but Professor Dumbledore called an Order meeting this afternoon."

He almost choked on his own spit. "Pardon?"

"It seemed urgent, too," she added, deciding not to hold back.

Remus quickly scrambled out of bed, but he froze when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He stared at the pale, thin man in front of him, hair wild and long, eyes still dark, scarred arms and body full of scratches and bruises. He shook his head in defeat. "I cannot go out like this. I can't let them see me like this."

Hermione led him back to his bed. "Come on, I'm sure they'll let you know everything later. I should take care of your back," she gently reminded him.

He sat on his bed and reluctantly turned around. He waited for her gasp, or any indication of shock at the horrendous sight of his back. But only soft touches came as Hermione's fingers went over every cut, every bruise with gentleness. Neither of them spoke; the only sound he could hear were Hermione's concerned murmurs, his hisses of discomfort, mumbled apologies and reassurances.

His stomach was full, and his wounds were being tended. In the comforting lull of silence, the waning beast in him rumbled in contentment.

~*~

A/N: I wish someone would tend to _my_ back, it aches after typing for hours… ^_^; I guess, things between Hermione and Remus are starting to change a bit, eh? Hmm, I'm thinking of keeping their relationship on sort of a borderline state. I like to see how far I can push their friendship before it crosses over to that wonderful world of romance…tehe.

And as you may have noticed, no mention of old magic or the werewolf packs in this chapter. Sorry bout that, but I really felt that the Hermione/Remus moment was crucial to establish the strengthening camaraderie between them. Tell me your thoughts!

And always, thanks for reading.

Luff,

smells like citrus

PS: ladywolf93—yeah, I guess that's definitely one way of looking at it, thanks for pointing it out! ^_^

PSS: made some very recent changes, just minor ones. :)


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